Tony Law: Frillemorphesis

The absurdist magic seems temporarily on the wane

Tony Law is a verb not a noun. In his many years performing at the Fringe he appears on stage, usually in some hint of a costume, and proceeds to riff on a variety of subjects from his skewed perspective. In previous years, he has managed to work his frenetic and deliberately offbeat ramblings up to a fever pitch, sweeping whole crowds with him in a wave of euphoria; from witnessing these performances, it would be easy to believe that, for Law, a successful performance is as natural as breathing.

This year, his laugh-cranking mechanism is on the fritz. His continual insistence that what he’s doing is not worthy of being called a show has long been present in his act. This is the first time that these assertions are actually convincing. While the requisite parts are all there – the self-effacing, shambolic insanity, surreal ad-lib odysseys that open out like matryoshka dolls, and a fantastic segment vindicating the use of a horse’s head mask – this time he fails to spin straw into comedy gold.

Though a sense of camaraderie is lacking this time around, Tony Law’s loyal followers will remain by his side until he recalibrates that alchemy of the absurd.